


Diary of A Horrible Person

by Singerdiva01



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3889930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singerdiva01/pseuds/Singerdiva01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy tells his diary the things he would never say out loud, the things he hates himself for even thinking. (BSG Epics comment!fic. The challenge was "write a fic that doesn't show Billy in a good light," and, well this is certainly that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diary of A Horrible Person

**_Day 87_ **

I can hardly bear to write the words.

Some days, I can’t wait for LR to die.

I could lie and say it’s because I can’t stand to watch her suffer anymore but there’s no point in lying here, is there? If I’m going to be a horrible person, think such horrible thoughts, the least I can do is own up to them. That in itself, thinking that makes it any better, is equally disgusting.

I’m tired. I’m tired of the smell of death that permeates Colonial One and sticks on my clothes and my hair at the end of the day. I’m tired of cleaning up vomit and wiping up sweat and having to pretend none of it disgusts me. It does; dying is gross and awful and LR knows this from experience and still expects me to keep playing pretend. I resent her for that and, mostly, I hope she never sees it in my eyes but sometimes I fantasize that she will and she’ll send me away so I don’t have to deal with her, with it, anymore.

I’m tired of doing her job and mine too. Sick of lying to everyone about how much she can really get done and making decisions no one my age is remotely qualified to make. She says she’s staying on as president until she dies for the good of the people but I’m starting to think that’s selfish bullshit. The Twelve Colonies, whatever the hell is left of them, don’t really have a president. LR’s out of her mind on chamalla most of the time and when she’s not she’s almost always so tired she can barely string sentences together.

She’s calling for me now. She thinks I come rushing in as soon as I hear her but sometimes I sit here for a few minutes, like now, and hope for silence.

**_Day 92_ **

LR collapsed this morning. By the time the medics got there she could barely breathe. It was the most terrifying fifteen minutes of my life. I don’t know if I could live with the memory of her dying in my arms. I’m not sure I can live with the ones I have.

She cried, in that way she does when she’s trying to hide it, when she realized she’d never leave sickbay again.

Me, the most horrible friend in the world, I’m glad. I don’t have to do it alone anymore. There are nurses to help feed her and drain the fluid from the back of her throat when she starts choking. It smells like antiseptic here and even though I’ve always hated that smell I think it’s a blessing now.

_**Day 94** _

What’s more horrible than wanting your best friend in the world to die? Being angry at her for still being alive. Thinking of killing her just to end it, figuring out how to do it so no one will ever know.

Coming thisclose to doing it.

She won’t accept any morpha and it gets worse and worse every day. Her whimpers of pain are the most awful sound in the world and there’s nothing I or anyone can do but pat her hand, stroke her hair, and wait until she passes out again. I’m furious that she’s so selfish, that she can’t see how much she’s making everyone around her suffer by forcing us to watch her die like this. She enjoys being a martyr, wants her people to know what she endured for them. She never thinks about what I’ve endured for her.

She can’t breathe without the oxygen now. I’ve been sitting here for three days and I know where it’s connected to the tank. This morning, I had my fingers on the connection. I watched her sleep, wondering if she’d wake up when the breath started to leave her and look at me with those big green eyes and plead for help.

Adama the elder walked in and the moment was gone. I didn’t even make it to the bathroom, just puked all over the linoleum floor right outside her room.

Would I have done it? I’d like to think not. But the horrible thing is, I just might have.

_**Day 100/Day One** _

We’re back on Colonial One today.

I shredded my other diary then doused it in water and tossed the wet lump in the bathroom garbage.

If I weren’t a coward, a more horrible person than has ever lived, I would have shown it to LR. Let her bring me up on charges for attempted assassination, if she wanted. Given her the chance to hate me as much as I deserve.

Instead, I stayed quiet when she toasted me at the welcome home party, smiled and blushed when she sang my praises to the rest of the staff. Let her hug me and tell me she’s eternally grateful for my patience, my care, my love.

I deserve the brig or the airlock. Does it make me even more horrible to think having her love is a punishment that's even worse?


End file.
